Islands in the Stream
by TutorGirlml
Summary: Emma Swan and her pirate captain can't seem to escapte that destiny keeps pulling them back together, over and over again... Captain Swan chaptered story, highlighting several of the pairs meetings throughout the show's storyline and into the future
1. Chapter One: Up a Beanstalk

_Hello all! Welcome to my first attempt at a multi-chaptered, "Once Upon a Time" Captain Swan fic. Up until now, it's just been one-shots, so we'll see how this goes. I hope, as always, that you will read and enjoy, and take a moment to let me know what you thought if you are so inclined. This fic borrows bits of an old Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton duet from the 80s for its title and the chapter intros, but the song seemed oddly appropriate. The lyrics describe two people who keep coming back to each other, no matter what, and I would say it seems that Killian and Emma are going to keep returning to each other as well, from one adventure to the next. Each chapter revisits a moment in the show's storyline so far, until the last chapter, which is a possible scenario for the future. I still don't own the show or any of the characters. Would that be fun though? ;)_

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter One: Up a Beanstalk

"_Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown;_

_I set out to get you…I was lost inside,_

_But there was something going on…"_

_ 'Bloody well should have known better than to trust a pretty face,' _Killian Jones ranted to himself, jerking at the heavy chain and its shackle encircling his one whole wrist. Of course, the rusted old metal held firm; testing it only made him feel slightly less helpless, if no less a fool. Swan had gotten his head spinning, made him think she truly cared whether or not he had been crushed by the stones tumbling from the giant's ceiling, and distracted him from his one true purpose: get to this Storybrooke, where Emma and her mother aimed to return, and skin his Crocodile. A beautiful, feisty blonde in skintight breeches and knee-high boots threw him a little bit of sass and saved him from a tripwire, and he had fallen right into a snare of another making.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he threw his arms up, and stopped trying to pull free. It wasn't going to do him any good. Though he didn't understand why Swan had felt she must leave him behind, she had sworn he would come to no harm. Apparently the lass had real persuasive powers – not just over him, but with giants as well. _'I just need a head start,' _she had told him, her words barely louder than a whisper as she had backed away reluctantly. She seemed to think this giant would not kill him, but free him after the amount of time she had requested passed. There was no denying that her running from him, and leaving him defenseless had hurt – especially when he had thought they were working rather well together. However, he easily recognized the look of self-preservation in her stormy eyes; even as she abandoned his company, Swan had been begging for his forgiveness. She knew he hadn't told her a lie, knew he had helped her, but she couldn't risk full trust. In fact, he wasn't sure that she hadn't panicked at how well they seemed to understand each other and the fact that she might have _wanted_ to trust him. She had been forcing distance before she could care too much.

As Killian mulled this all over in his mind, he was interrupted by the pounding sound of giant footsteps thundering louder and nearer with each moment. Soon, it felt that the very earth he was standing on shuddered at the impact, and he almost fell off his feet as the ground quaked significantly. Soon, Emma's new friend came into view, and Killian couldn't help the nervousness that edged into the roiling mix his emotions already were. He certainly hoped that his golden-maned thief was a correct judge of giant character; he truly did not relish his centuries of life in the realms ending with being the afternoon snack of some disgruntled bean grower.

To his surprise, the giant bent down, holding a key so small in his gargantuan hand that he could hardly fit it into the lock on the chain that held the pirate captive. "Emma said once enough time had passed, I was to set you free unharmed," he grunted. The lock clicked open, letting the manacle fall free, and Killian stepped back, relieved, as the giant stood to his full height again.

"Thanks, Mate," Killian told him jovially enough, glad that this giant no longer seemed to be the angry whirlwind he had been when they first entered his home. "I appreciate regaining my freedom. Pray tell me though, why are you taking orders from Miss Swan?"

The giant looked down at the pirate, a faraway expression on his expansive face. "She saw that I'm not just some monster, some evil villain. She treated me with mercy and then made a sincere request. I couldn't refuse her."

"Ah, I _do_ see what you mean," Killian replied, nodding in agreement. "Where she is concerned, it _is_ hard to hold back, isn't it?"

The giant said no more for a long moment, looking at the captain as if gauging his intentions and reaction. Hoping this possible adversary could not see that he planned to track Emma Swan down and prove her wrong for doubting him, Killian nodded to the giant and made to walk away.

"She's a special one, Captain,' the giant added, his voice carrying and making the pirate turn back around curiously. "Don't let hurt pride turn you against her. If she left you here in order to make a getaway, she must have had her reasons."

Killian simply dipped his head in response, no longer sure what to make of their conversation. He wasn't truly angry with her – not anymore – but he wasn't going to let her slip away and vanish forever either. He started walking again, and was almost to the hole in the wall which would take him back down the beanstalk, when the giant spoke once more, "When you do see her again, tell her Anton sends his best, would you?"

The pirate shook his head in humored disbelief, but called back over his shoulder, "Aye, I'll do that!"

He was halfway back down the twined maze of vine and leaves when he realized Anton hadn't even asked if he would go after Swan, or if he thought that he could catch up. It was almost humorous, how clear his determination must have been, even to a stranger. A grin slipped back onto his handsome face, lighting his blue eyes with mischievous anticipation. He would be dogging Swan's steps until he was with her again. She intrigued him, she challenged and awakened him, and he was not finished with her yet…


	2. Chapter Two: Behind Bars

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Two: Behind Bars

"_I can't live without you if the love was gone,_

_Everything is nothing if you've got no one,_

_You'll be lost in the night,_

_Slowly losing sight of the real thing…"_

The door of Rumplestiltskin's abandoned cell swung shut in her face with a heart-sinking clang of finality. Emma had sensed what was going on just a second too late, lunged for the door, but only been pulled up short as Cora had flung it closed with her magic.

Along with the fact that the ink appeared to be nowhere in this place where Rumple had promised, they had now lost the compass, been trapped, and allowed the worst being she had ever met to gain a portal to Storybrooke. Emma's thoughts raced frantically, careening from one awful scenario to another like some awful mental movie. Her son was there, and she wouldn't be able to protect him from whatever mayhem Cora had in mind. Chances were that he was with Regina – which was exactly where Cora would head first. She had to stop them!

Wrapping a hand around the dirty, aged, metal bar of their prison, she jerked against the barrier. It didn't budge, but it made her feel she was doing something other than panicking. She wasted no time or energy on the older woman, knowing begging would do no good and not wanting to give the sorceress the satisfaction of her distress. Instead, she leveled a glare at Hook, who was standing by Cora and had clearly once again realigned himself with the person who seemed to be coming out ahead. It should not have bothered her so much that he was choosing the side of a villain. Wasn't that why she had left him on that beanstalk – because she wasn't sure she could or should trust him? Yet, she had never wanted so badly to be proven wrong than in her mistrust of him. Somewhere inside, where the Princess who had been born in the Enchanted Forest and should have enjoyed an idyllic life as the child of Prince Charming and Snow White still wanted to believe in happy endings, she had hoped that the pirate captain would catch up to her and finally prove himself trustworthy in a way she could no longer doubt.

As if partially reading her thoughts, Hook paced idly back toward the row of bars where she stood. His movements were calm, calculated, like the prowl of a jungle cat, and every bit as predatory. Those blue eyes in his dark, mysterious face were not playful, as they usually appeared, but cold chips of ice, making her realize that she might have turned him from her side much more completely than she had intended. He leaned in to speak to her, his voice low and controlled, but with bitterness floating along in its wake all the same. His words were hard when he informed her that the promise – the possibility – between them was gone and he was finished with her.

Emma was stung by his vehemence; even if she knew there was no one to blame but herself, and she jerked back from the cell's gate where she had been standing close to speak with him. The pirate's eyes were deep and hooded – darker than she had seen them yet, and she could feel how ravenous his thirst for vengeance truly was. So far, she had thought him a poor excuse for a legendary villain, but suddenly his menace was clear, and she couldn't help fearing that her betrayal had brought it to the fore once again.

Hook turned to leave them, and Emma wanted to cry out – to plead, apologize, explain – both for the sake of his tarnished soul turning dark again, and to do anything to stall Cora, if only for a minute more. An opportunity was leaving her as his tall, graceful frame stalked across the shadowed, cavernous space back toward the Queen of Hearts. Emma had not figured out yet just what the sense of excitement and hope she had felt around Hook meant, but she had wanted to explore it. She couldn't say she had felt that way about any man for years. Instead, she had turned her back on him in fear, and had justly earned him now turning his in spite.

Emma bowed her head in defeat, sensing that Snow had come to stand behind her, put a maternal hand on her shoulder, and assure her that they would find another way. Emma knew though that she had lost a precious chance. Hook might truly fear Cora. He must have feared being left behind in this world…and she had exacerbated that by forcibly leaving him on that beanstalk for no good reason other than a moment of panic. He had been the first to notice their kindred "lost-ness"; he had nothing and no one, just as she had spent her whole life until Henry showed up on her doorstep. Had her abandonment made him turn from the real connection that had both felt upon first meeting?

Coming to a stop just behind Cora, Hook nodded as if to say he was ready, and the true Evil Queen in return gave him a small, approving smile, then turned to go – no longer even questioning if he would follow. Hook – _Killian _– glanced back over his shoulder, finding her eyes unerringly with his own. There was still anger on the surface, but underneath Emma could read the regret and longing he felt as well.

_'Don't go,' _she mouthed silently, so no one else but him could see or hear. Her heart leapt and stuttered at his moment of hesitation. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to side with Cora, not really. Hood stood a moment longer, obviously torn, but then, with a curt shake of his head, he turned from her and was gone.

She let her head drop to rest against the cool metal of the bars, deflated by her failure to reach him in more ways than the rest of her traveling party could know. She determined right then that they would find a way out of this. Cora _would not _get to her son, and that witch _would not _hold Hook's heart either. Before squaring her shoulders and turning to address Snow, Mulan, and Aurora, her eyes burned with fierce resolve. _'Watch out, I'm coming for you, Captain,' _she whispered into the dark.


	3. Chapter Three: On the Mend

_Here we are again, continuing the saga of Captain Hook and Emma Swan's early meetings, and where it is eventually leading them. I really appreciate the follows and favorites people have given this – thanks! I'd still love any comments folks might have, either what they liked or what they weren't so fond of. As before, I don't own them, though Killian Jones is trying to take over a huge chunk of realty in my mind…_

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Three: On the Mend

"_You do something to me that I can't explain_

_Hold me closer and I feel no pain_

_Every beat of my heart,_

_We got something going on…"_

When he wakes up in a blindingly white, antiseptic-scented modern hospital room in Storybrooke, it takes Killian a few minutes to remember where he is and how he got there. Blinking against the harsh light, which is nothing like what is found in nature or the candles and lanterns he is used to, he tries to quickly take stock of his surroundings, figure out how badly he is hurt, and the quickest escape route if that becomes necessary. It doesn't take long to ascertain that his head pounds and aches more with every second his eyes remain open, but the worst pain is localized in his ribcage, which feels as if every breath he takes scrapes it raw. A moment of panic where he is literally afraid to move even a hair's breadth overtakes him, but he forces himself to calm down and breathe through it. He cannot remember experiencing this kind of agony since the Crocodile took his hand, but niggling threads of memory tell him that the Crocodile is connected to this injury as well. Bit by bit, flashes return to him of a horrible, fast-moving, wheeled, metal contraption hurtling in his direction, and Killian is sure that whatever the device was has done the real damage he is feeling. Slowly he recalls going to the town line with a gun in hand, and is still trying to reconnect the images he gains into some sensible order when he hears the door across the room start to open.

Glancing up, he is startled to see Emma Swan, stepping in uncertainly, as if not sure she belongs or what she is even doing there. Hook knows that he has already heard her voice from behind closed eyelids this night? – morning? – ordering someone else to hide him from Gold with a worried note in her voice. _'So she does care,' _his mind whispers unbidden, and an unconscious smirk steals across his lips at the idea. She had been out there in the dark with him too; he remembered her testing the damage to his ribs as he lay sprawled and immobile on the cold, hard ground. Just as she had then, she is trying to project her toughest front. Swan saunters into the room coolly, coming to stand over him and smoothly disguising the hesitation he had glimpsed for a moment when she first entered. He can see a strange golden star sparkling at her waist, and she unknowingly brushes her fingers over it, as if assuring herself that it's still there before asking bluntly – demanding really – "Where's Cora?"

He quirks one of his expressive black eyebrows at her playfully, then winces as sharp pain shoots through his skull again at the motion. "Cora?" he tries, still hoping to play with her. "I think you had better leave that witch alone, Darling. She got me here, but my concern is not with her. I came to finish things with the Crocodile."

Emma shoots him a disgruntled look, as if she can't believe he can still be so cheeky after being hit by a car, losing consciousness, and breaking several ribs. In all actuality, he can't help noting how adorable the little furrow in her brow is as she tries to figure out what he is doing in her world and how he got there. "Keep laughing, Buddy. I won't be able to hide you from Rumplestiltskin forever, and I'd say you're done once he gets to you."

"Hardly, Lass! It's me who's after him! Did you see his face? Priceless!"

"Are you really that cold, Hook?" she shoots back, eyes narrowing. "You _shot_ an innocent person – and she has no idea who she is now! What did Belle ever do to you?!"

"She loves the Crocodile," Killian replies simply. "It's nothing personal, but she holds whatever semblance of a heart he possesses. That is where I must hurt him to repay what he did to me."

"You're like a spoiled child," she retorts, and he can tell she would really like to break the rest of his ribs in irritation. "Use some sense before you get yourself killed, why don't you?"

Killian can't help being a bit offended. How weak and defenseless does she believe him to be? The Dark One may be powerful, but he is the most feared pirate captain in the realms. He has had long enough to stew on the punishment the Dark One deserves, and no matter how powerful that demon may be, he can still be killed. He moves forward to sit up and demand his hook, ready to storm out on his enemy's trail again, only to be pulled up short by a familiar type of restraint on his good wrist.

"Is this your doing, Swan?" he seethes, glowering at her in dark frustration. However, he backtracks quickly, knowing that his anger will only make her more determined to detain him, and forces himself to shift over to easy flirtation. "You do realize that there's no need to restrain me, don't you, Love? I'm yours for the asking."

"Give it a rest, Hook," she sighs, feeling time sliding past all too quickly. She needs to check on the strange newcomer to town, make sure Belle is stabilized and resting for the night, be certain that Gold _isn't _anywhere around, and then she has to get back to Henry before he wakes up to find her gone. Add those to the fact that she honestly hates having to chain Hook up again and her knowledge that he must feel vulnerable without his hook, and she has about all the stress on her mind that she can handle.

"Fine, deny your attraction all you want, Princess. I know it's there." He winks at her, and wriggles, trying to sit up straighter despite the pain, and holds out the stump of his other arm. "I'll just have my hook back please, and then be on my way."

"Not a chance!" she spits indignantly, and yet she is already leaning into his personal space, reaching around him to prop him up with more pillows and gently settling him back against them, her hands lingering in a soft, soothing way that belies the exasperation and abruptness in her voice and manner. Killian is genuinely surprised when, before she pulls away, she slowly runs a hand over his forehead as if checking for fever and searches his eyes with real concern. "Better now?"

"Aye, thank you," he replies, his voice suddenly raspy and strangely breathless.

"You need to stay here and rest, you ridiculous pirate," she mutters almost fondly, regaining normal distance between them again, much too soon for his liking. "For my sake, can you at least try to stay out of Rumplestiltskin's way – at least until your ribs are healed and you're on your feet again?"

"Didn't know you cared, Swan," he tossed back with an endearing crooked smile, eyes sparkling with mischief and pleasure both. Puzzlingly, he can see that there is an odd mixture of regret and longing mixed with the authority and agitation in her gaze as she looks at him waiting for his answer. Killian recognizes the confused turmoil, knowing it must be something like what he felt at leaving her in the cell in the Enchanted Forest in order to stay on Cora's good side.

"Are you going to stay here and behave, or am I going to have to post guards outside?" she responds, ignoring his banter.

"I will…for now," he nods to her in deference, knowing he really can't go anywhere in the state he's in anyway. Truth be told, he hasn't been feeling the pain nearly as much since Emma arrived. She is a charmingly bewitching distraction, and though he does not know just what it is she does to him, he finds himself wanting her to stay.

Emma is shaking her head at him now, laughter in her usually troubled, careworn eyes. He would pay good money to know what she is thinking, and wonders for a moment if he were a better man, and if so much weren't already standing between them, what it would take for her to let him in. Every beat of his heart asks the question now pulsing through his veins. There _is _something between them; they have both been fighting it since first laying eyes on each other, but it hasn't gone away.

"Make sure that you do," she warns finally, standing again, knowing that she has to leave, even if seeing the captain bruised and broken on the hospital bed makes her want to do nothing more than stay and look after him. "I don't want to be picking up magically scattered pieces of you!"

"Keeping me right where you want me, aren't you?" Killian tries once more, unable to resist the way he can make her both blush and fume simultaneously. Whatever it is she is stirring up inside, he can no longer deny that he likes it. "Don't worry, Love," he murmurs, holding her gaze a moment longer before she turns away, "I'm not going anywhere."


	4. Chapter Four: To Neverland

_Here comes chapter four! I hope you guys out there are still reading this and liking it! I would really love to hear any comments, suggestions, or particulars that you liked; reviews absolutely make my day. Without further ado, here's the latest installment…_

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Four: To Neverland

"_Islands in the stream, that is what we are_

_No one in between, how can we be wrong?_

_Sail away with me to another world_

_Where we'll rely on each other…"_

Anger, fear, loss, determination, and confusion are cycling through Emma's being at lightning speed as she runs toward the docks with Regina and her parents on her heels. They have averted one catastrophe only to have another thrown at their feet. How did those two get ahold of Henry? He had been right there with them, and the fallout from the crystal had only dazed her for a moment. She is trembling, feeling as though the world is ending, and she sees Greg and Tamara holding Henry between them at the very end of the dock. "The last bean!" Regina cries out from just over her shoulder, and sure enough, Greg is flinging something into water.

Emma forces herself to put on yet one more burst of speed, but it isn't enough. She's still not near enough to do anything when those three figures leap and disappear into a green vortex that snaps closed behind them. She skids to a stop right where they had just stood, but the need to launch herself off the wooden planks and into the water is almost overpowering. The portal is shut, but she can think of nothing else to do in her panicked desperation. They have to do something! She can't lose him now! Every second she stands there helpless, Henry is slipping further and further away.

She stares out over the waves, seeking, scanning, praying for some hint, some solution to appear and let her know what to do. All she sees are the swells rolling in and the clouds billowing white overhead, just as they always do, betraying no trace of the whirlpool that has swallowed the most precious person in her world. Silently begging them to have some idea what to do, Emma searches her parent's faces – even Regina's – but she can see they have no help for her. Gold and Belle have arrived in the meantime, and she demands an answer from him. She can barely register the pawnbroker's admission that there is no way for them to follow without another portal, even for him. She can feel herself beginning to come apart from the inside out. It is all she can do to remain standing instead of falling to her knees in defeat.

Then, Belle gets all of their attention, peering back out over the water curiously. "What's that?" she asks, drawing them all to the shape growing rapidly as it moves toward them on the horizon. At first, it isn't quite clear in the distance, but it is bearing down on Storybrooke – right toward them – at such speed that a ship and its tall, white sails soon become clear. Though she has only been aboard it once, Emma would know the magnificent vessel anywhere. Her heart kindles a flare of hope when she realizes what she is seeing…_who _it has to be.

She barely catches her breath again before the Jolly Roger is in the harbor, coming to rest at the dock. She doesn't know whether to throw her arms around her treacherous pirate when he appears at the gangplank, or to curse him, snatch the bean, and push him overboard. She settles on neutral words, more than anything just glad they have a chance to go after her son and not wanting to waste time. "I thought you didn't care about anyone but yourself," she states.

"Aye," he replies, coming to stand before them, raking his eyes over her, holding her gaze without letting go, "or perhaps I only needed reminding that I could."

She dips her head in a quick nod of thanks, but also to avoid that knowing smile he gives her. Hook can read her all too well, and she is afraid he will sense beyond her gratitude the gladness she feels at his return, that he will glimpse the pleasure she feels that he hasn't sailed out of her life forever.

Regina's impatient voice slices through her thoughts and inner turmoil, snapping with frustration and authority. "Well, what are we waiting for?" she demands, brushing none to gently past Hook and Emma.

Hook gives a condescending mock bow after her, with the cheeky retort, "By all means, after you, Your Majesty." He raises his eyes again to find Emma and gives her a wink, sharing in the joke with her and stealing her breath at the should-be-sinful attractiveness of the expression. She shakes herself free of those thoughts and follows her parents up onto the ship after the Queen. They wait only a short time for Gold to bid Belle goodbye, and then they are charting their course.

Soon, the sea air and salt water spray is misting her face and whipping her hair wildly. Emma tries to ignore the frightening sense of foreboding radiating off both Gold and Hook at the mere name of Neverland, their new heading. She forces her mind to focus only on the fact that at last they are moving. They have already hesitated too long, but finally they are off after Henry. She is with her brave, daring parents straight out of heroic fairytales, two of the most powerful wielders of magic that have ever lived, and one of the world's most infamous pirate captains. How scary should the Boy Who Never Grew Up really seem? It doesn't matter anyway; she will never leave Henry alone again in this life.

Unconsciously, she has moved so that she is in closer proximity to Hook. Not wanting to dwell for too long on why that should be the case, Emma hopes that none of the rest of them has noticed her edging his way. Her eyes widen as he flings the bean far out into the harbor and the water begins once again to swirl in a powerful whirlpool.

"Hold on!" Hook calls out to all of them, his voice ringing with power and warning. He is ordering his entire new makeshift crew, but his stormy, inescapable gaze is locked on her alone, making sure she has a tight grip on a secure piece of the rigging, needing to know that she is safe.

She can feel his genuine concern; knows that he is making this voyage to another world, a world he worked hard to escape, for her. She worries what it means that she has become as adept at reading him as he seems to be with her, but she doesn't have long to dwell. The huge, sucking maw of rushing water is pulling them nearer and nearer, opening to swallow them whole.

Emma watches Hook at the helm, steering his beloved ship right into the mouth of danger. He doesn't look uncertain or afraid; he looks determined, sure, and possibly even a bit invigorated. He was born for this kind of adventure, and seeing him there in his true element stirs something in her blood. She finds herself wanting to rely on him, to believe that he can get them all there and back as he claims. Maybe, just maybe, she will trust him – if only a bit – and let him the guide in this new world, whatever it holds.


	5. Chapter Five: In the Eye of the Storm

_Hello Readers! I hope you are still enjoying this story, though as always I would be thrilled to hear what you're really thinking. Drop me a review and you will truly make my weekend! I still don't own anything to do with "Once Upon a Time" or the characters (sadly). We are now moving into Season Three events with this chapter…_

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Five: In the Eye of the Storm

"…_That won't happen to us and we've got no doubt_

_Too deep in love and we got no way out_

_And the message is clear:_

_This could be the year for the real thing…"_

He can't move – can barely breathe – Killian simply stands frozen in the midst of the howling wind, beating rain, and cresting waves, staring at the nightmare unfolding before his very eyes. It simply cannot be. History _cannot_ repeat itself like this. Fate has always been cruel to him; his life hasn't been easy, but even cold, heartless Fate would not be this harsh a mistress. His Swan – he doesn't dare call her his out loud, but in his mind and his heart she already is – lies motionless on the deck, in the very spot where he can still see Milah lying as she died all those years ago. The image has never left his mind at peace, no matter how much time goes by, and in fact, he often unconsciously skirts this section of the deck so that she will not appear in front of him in reverie. He cannot stand to see Swan there now, looking every bit as lifeless as Milah had.

His own personal blonde siren hasn't moved a muscle since her father hauled her out of the water and onto the deck and they crowded around her soaking form, praying for her to answer them and open her eyes. While everyone else calls her, coaxes her, shakes her, holds her and gathers closer, he finds that he can't move at all. To anyone else, he might look unaffected, but he is struck so sharply by terror and impending grief that it is paralyzing. All he can do is watch as the others try to rouse her – he can't speak, can't even think.

When a blessed, miraculous tremor finally runs through her and she begins coughing up the water she has swallowed, he is shocked to feel what seems like his heart kicking back in and beginning to beat once more. Even more shocking is that he feels, amidst the raindrops on his skin, silent tears streaming down his cheeks unbidden. He doesn't think the rest of them notice, but his relief at seeing her now struggling to sit up with her parents' support and taking huge, gasping breaths of air thrills him beyond measure. The feelings that rush through him are so strong, sudden, and conflicted that he is torn in several different directions, beside himself and still unable to speak or move. He wants to shake sense into her and yell in her face at the recklessness of throwing herself into a stormy, mermaid-infested ocean just to prove a point. Yet, at the same time, he wants nothing more than to cradle her to him, touch her wet hair, feel her heart still thumping with life against his chest and assure himself as she draws in precious, life-giving air.

Killian Jones knows he is in deep, uncharted water now. He cares about Emma Swan much more than he ever intended, much more than he should have allowed himself. She might tolerate him, return flirtatious comments with him when she is in the right mood, she might even understand him better than most ever have, but she will never let herself care for him with the same force and ardor he now realizes are flooding him at the possibility of losing her. And why should she? He isn't a prince or a hero – only a pirate.

He wanted to fling himself blindly into the tempest after her when she dove off the side rail. He hesitated only because they were all – including her – lost if the Jolly Roger was no longer captained and staying afloat. Instead, he had helped her father bring her back and watched with a squeeze in his chest so severe that the Crocodile might as well have had his filthy hand around his heart once more. Killian knew all too well what those sort of sensations meant, and he was not at all sure he was prepared to handle the onslaught again.

When Emma's coughs cease, she glances at her parents' anxious faces and offers them a shaky smile, but then her gaze flutters up to him, locking him in her grip as surely as if she has physically grabbed his hand. He gives her a nod of recognition, words still beyond him, and then turns his back and walks away, unable to stand his own weakness and the things she is making him feel.

The waters the Jolly Roger floats in are calm now; the tossing and crashing are all happening within his own being. Killian heads below deck to his own quarters, where he believes and prays that none of his new crew will follow. He has to get a grip and steady himself, before the rest of them, and Emma in particular, discover his secret. He doesn't need anyone else to know that she has this hold on him, that he literally comes unhinged at the thought of her being hurt or that he might yet lose her. They still have a dangerous path ahead of them, laden with traps and trials, and he cannot afford to be this off-balance. Emma needs to survive this, needs her boy back; he needs to avoid thinking of anything beyond those two objectives. No one else needs to be troubled with the knowledge he has just gained: that if she doesn't come out of this venture alive and whole, he will be destroyed right along with her.


	6. Chapter Six: Between Tattered Hearts

_Hello all! I was excited to get some review feedback with the last installment; please keep it up! Hearing that people are reading and liking the story is just insanely exciting to me. Sorry that it's been a bit longer wait for this chapter, but I hope it is still enjoyable. This one continues on with the imagined "missing moments" from Season 3, post-"Lost Girl" in particular. I'm sad to report that I still don't own Killian, nor anything else related to "Once Upon A Time"; I'm just playing in their world. _

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Six: Between Tattered Hearts

"_No more will you cry_

_Baby, I will hurt you never;_

_We start and end as one in love forever…"_

Sighing as she hears the sound of footsteps breaking through the branches and undergrowth, Emma wonders why they all can't just leave her alone for a moment. Henry is out in this wilderness alone somewhere; it's already getting chilly at night, and she finds herself shivering involuntarily at the thought of him cold and hungry with no one who care for him. She came to rescue her son, but all she has to show for it so far is a blank page of parchment and only Pan's word that it's a map. Beyond that, his taunts threatening her parents' lives and the goading that she is already too late for Henry's forgiveness and trust ring mockingly through her mind. It's too much that while she is trying to keep control on her tumultuous emotions and figure out this puzzle that her long lost parents keep trying to bond with her, advise her, and bolster her with their never-ending hope and optimism – optimism that has never been of any use to her in the real world.

She is about to ask either her mom or dad, whichever one it is, to please just give her a minute, she needs to think, catch her breath, and then she'll come back to the campsite before full dark. Before she gets those words out though, she realizes it isn't either one of them. Though she hears this person coming, it isn't the crunching, stumbling racket the rest of them make as they navigate this unknown island's jungle. This person's progress is sure and measured, even the way his steps come to her ears makes it clear he knows his path. Only when she can tell he has come to a stop, and both his presence and the feeling of his gaze on her makes her skin tingle, does Emma turn to face Hook.

His left eyebrow quirks up, and he looks back at her expectantly, as if anticipating that she had been about to send whoever was intruding on her solitary moment packing.

Emma just tilts her head at him, biting back the urge to snap and demand what he wants. She is frustrated by everything in this land, this situation, and her inability to get any closer to her son, but none of that is Hook's fault. She could not have gotten this far without him, would not have even had a chance to follow Henry and his kidnappers if Hook hadn't offered them his ship, and no matter how much he manages to push every one of her buttons, she owes him enough to be civil at the very least.

"Are you alright, Love?" he asks finally, his voice lilting playfully, always managing to sound more than a bit flirtatious, even when he's offering seemingly innocent conversation. She blows out a long breath, weary, concerned, and not even sure how to put all her thoughts into words. She shakes her head slightly, ducking her face so she doesn't have to meet that glimmering, clear-blue stare of his that can read her so clearly. "I'll manage," she responds with a one-shouldered shrug.

"Aye, of that I have no doubt," he assures, giving her a half smile and taking her answer as invitation enough to step further into the clearing she has found. She doesn't move or tell him to leave, so he comes to rest leaning against the large rock that she is sitting on with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs.

"You're awfully confident in someone who has no clue what she's doing," she retorts with an unladylike snort of laughter. There's no real venom in it, but she can't figure out why he seems so determined to see her as such a "tough lass", as he is always calling her. She feels anything but strong right now.

"What is it, Swan?" Hook asks, leaning in to try to meet her averted eyes. His voice is softer now, all jest gone and almost soothing in its tone. "Henry _is _here. We _will _find him. Is something else troubling you?"

She hesitates, debating whether or not to open up, not sure if she can bare her fears and guilt and insecurities right now without losing her grip completely. She doesn't know why it's Hook she is about to take into her confidence, and yet, in some strange way, it also makes perfect sense. They have had an understanding from the moment they met, and when she lets herself consider it, she knows that really they are two scratched, tarnished, ill-used sides of the same coin. The scars and hurts she has borne have been his as well in more cases than most people would have in common. Finally, she meets his eyes, drinks in his full attention and support beside her, and admits, "Peter Pan came to speak to me while I was getting the berries for supper earlier. He- he said some things I don't want to believe are true…"

Hook draws in a sharp breath at her words, looking at her as if it's a miracle that she is still there before him and hasn't been spirited away or vanished into thin air.

She is already shaking her head at her own words however. "I know I'm being ridiculous. He's just trying to get in my head, playing one of his sick little games, but…"

"Hush, Swan, don't be so hard on yourself," he cuts in before she can go any further. He stills her when his hook comes up to rest beneath her chin, the cool curve of metal tipping her face up to look into his eyes once more. "Hang in there, Emma. Whatever he tried to make you think or feel, don't believe it. Do not let him stop you."

It was as if those genuine, kind words were both a caress and a battering ram. She leaned her head on his shoulder, actually curling herself into the shelter of his side when his arm came around her of its own accord to pull her in. Not, however, before he saw her face and the steely resolve it usually bore, crumple and her frame shake with silent tears.

Emma doesn't know what has come over her, what it means that she is letting him see her like this, or how she is going to look him in the eye once they pull apart. All she can hear is the cruel refrain, _'Henry doesn't forgive you either,' _rattling through her head.

Seconds, and then minutes, pass between them before she realizes that Hook is rocking her back and forth ever so slightly, gently attempting to soothe her, and that his one good hand is tenderly stroking her hair. She finally sniffles and attempts to sit up straight again, wanting to apologize for her breakdown and hoping she hasn't lost all authority in front of him. "Sorry about that—" she starts, but he interrupts before she can get any farther.

"Don't apologize to me, Darling. You've nothing to be sorry for. I would say that has been long overdue, and I'm honored you would allow be to be here with you."

She nods and then lets herself feel absolved of the embarrassment and awkwardness she had been dreading. Still, she needs him to understand. "Pan told me I would be an orphan again before I left this island," she tells him honestly, squaring her shoulders for strength and then finishing with the worst blow, "and he said that Henry won't want to come with me when we get to him. He hasn't forgiven me for giving him up when he was born."

"Bloody hell, Emma!" Hook pulls her to himself again, in what he hopes is a bracing sort of hug, letting a quick ghosting of his lips peck the top of her head as he does so. "You really bring out the worst in that little sociopath."

He actually draws a chuckle from her this time, and Emma marvels at his ability to provide her with some levity, even when things look truly dark. She is startled when he continues more seriously though, his words so vehement that it's as though they are being forcibly wrung from him. "You lad loves you, Emma. He sought you out and asked you to be in his life. Do not let Pan that that truth away from you. As for being orphaned and alone again…you won't be if I can bloody well help it."

Emma studies his profile as his eyes focus on her until she can't stand the wealth of emotion and glances away. When her eyes come back to him, he is looking off somewhere into the past that she cannot see. It strikes her that they are two people who have both been lost – adrift and alone – long enough. His vow gives her strength, and she allows her fingers to twine with his for a moment, giving his hand a quick squeeze of gratitude before she stands to lead the way back to the others for the night. _'We're not alone anymore,' _she silently promises herself, and him, _'we'll end that now…together.'_


	7. Chapter Seven: Beyond the Bridge

_Hey, sorry for a bit longer break between this chapter and the previous one. I'd still love to hear what you think of this story as you read. There is only one more chapter after this one. This one goes with episode 3x06 "Ariel" and takes a bit more liberty with what I imagine happening in missing scenes, but I still hope you enjoy. _

"**Islands in the Stream"**

Chapter Seven: Beyond the Bridge

"_Tender love is blind_

_It requires a dedication_

_All this love we feel needs no conversation…"_

_ 'What did you expect?!' _ his mind berates him as he watches hidden behind some branches while Emma and Baelfire talk in a clearing outside the Echo Cave. _'She's found her first love – Henry's father – and yet she might still want you?! A common scoundrel with nothing to offer but a ship and a bit a charm?' _Killian feels pathetic for even lingering to watch the two of them, all the while wishing he could make out their words. It doesn't matter anyway, as his self-loathing mind is only too happy to supply him with possibilities to fill in the blanks. She must be admitting that she never forgot him, that all they need is to get their son back and then they can be a family at last. He's telling her that he is sorry for leaving her all those years ago, that he will do anything to make it up to her, to win her back. Though Killian turns his back on the scene and stalks away, the imagined conversation has already turned his stomach inside out, and he clenches and unclenches his fist at his side in helpless, unvented anger. He doesn't know what exactly caused Neal to leave Emma, or what had been their understanding before the abandonment, but he has seen firsthand the aftermath on Emma's psyche and has felt the sting of her self-preserving lack of trust in anyone that Neal's betrayal left behind.

Bitterly shaking his head and trying to clear all the hurt feelings and anger away, Killian wants to kick himself until he learns the lesson that 300 years have somehow failed to drive home for him. _'Just what was I thinking?' _ he asks himself, replaying the confession of his feelings that he had offered in the cave. He was driven to see her happy, to get for her whatever she needed, no matter the cost to himself. He should not have allowed himself the fragment of hope that their single – though wildly combustible – kiss and his heartfelt declaration would mean something to her. Milah's son obviously holds some of his mother's irresistible magnetism; how else to explain Emma being as helpless to resist the pull of her first love as he himself had been against Baelfire's mother? _'Like moths to a flame,'_ his mind spits at him condescendingly. _'Neither I nor the Swan girl have the sense needed to keep from handing our affections over to ones who can destroy us.'_

He swipes his sword angrily at an errant vine trailing across the path, and for a moment, he wishes it were Baelfire's flesh. In the next instant, he hates himself even more for the thought. This is Milah's child, a boy he had once felt such affection for that he would have taken him in as a son; the venom he feels now is not truly fair. Still, if he had ever possessed the slightest chance with Emma, it is surely gone now, because of Baelfire, and Killian finds he is unable to let it go.

When he comes storming back into the clearing where they have made their camp, Charming and Snow look up at the noise he is making as he tromps through much less stealthily than usual. Their argument over David's deception is momentarily forgotten when the Prince gets a good look at the Captain's face. "Hook?" he starts to question with genuine concern, "Are you…?"

"Fine, Mate," Killian bites out without stopping or even slowing his pace. "Just give me a moment." Soon he is past them and in the surrounding trees' darkness again, finally far enough away from Baelfire and Emma's reunion that he feels he can breathe. He has to get this under control; he cannot let the rest of his "crew" see that their Princess has him falling apart.

Drawing in a tight breath, his eyes fall to his clenched fist, only to observe with surprise that it is literally shaking – vibrating – with the force of his emotions. He had not been lying when he admitted his secret in the cave. After Milah's death, he had ceased feeling. All had been a bland, senseless haze of revenge and hatred for so long that he had forgotten there was once more. Emma had brought light, sensation_, longing_ flooding back into his being. He had been thrilled at the feelings, the realization, for only as long as it took to read the shock and panic in Emma's face at his words. She didn't welcome his affection, couldn't – or wouldn't – return his feelings. By the time she had crossed the bridge formed of their admissions and was pulling Baelfire into an embrace, he was already regretting that he had offered his heart in his words, and was paying painfully for having emotion returned to him.

Sheathing his sword, Killian stands, his chest heaving at the exertion of stalking through the jungle at the pace he set himself and the torment he has been running through his own mind. He wants something to hit, something he can tear apart with his own bare hands, just to release some of the frustration. Shaking his head at himself in disgust, Killian thinks that it is the last thing he needs to do. The one-handed, worthless pirate busts up the only good hand he's got, that will certainly make him more appealing to the Lost Princess. Not to mention that they all need him – are all counting on him more than they will admit – to be at his best, not distracted by this nonsense.

Still, he is unable to fight the urge, and he draws his hand back, letting the punch fly with a maddened growl that becomes a guttural moan at the agony which blossoms upon his fist's contact with the unyielding trunk of the nearest tree. The sickening anguish of it near turns his stomach and comes close to doubling him over, but the frenzied need to release the pressure and blind rage he's feeling is stronger. He is set on going again, and welcomes the pain, even knowing he'll damage his only hand beyond recognition. He finds he barely even cares. It is only the sudden rush of pounding feet, and Emma's voice crying out, "Hook! What the hell?!" in shock, and then her small hand on his arm, pulling him back, that stops him from delivering his second blow.

He draws in a sharp, shuddering breath and forces down the urge to angrily shake her off him. Jerking his head to the side to meet her eyes, his ice-blue gaze is harsh, tormented, and nearly steals her breath. She can see the hurt behind his frustration and anger, and it makes her heart thud erratically, even as she tries to tell herself it shouldn't make that much difference to her what he's feeling. Killian wants desperately to tell her to go away, to stop looking at him like she actually cares, but neither biting vitriol nor sharp wit comes to his aid as it usually does. The damaged hand throbs with an ache that intends to be known, now that his anger is draining away and he has nothing else to center himself with.

"What are you doing?!" she cries angrily, her eyes wavering from his face to his hand and back again.

Killian knows there is no sensible answer her can give, not that he can offer to her anyway. Instead, he tries to turn his back, to shut her out before her look of concern and sympathy can squeeze his heart even further. He sighs, knowing that she is as stubborn as she is strong, beautiful, and addictive. She isn't going to just let him be, not when she hasn't gotten a straight answer from him yet.

His senses are so attuned to her that he feels her moving to stand before him, even before she steps into his field of vision. The electric current that runs up his skin when she carefully, almost tenderly, lifts his arm and cradles his injured hand in both of hers, stuns him. "Let me look," she whispers, already doing so as she makes the request.

"Leave it, Darling," he tries, he voice rasping, wanting to pull his wrist and hand from her grasp, but nearly crying out at the pain of even the slightest pressure on the extremity now. "There's no need."

Her eyes flick up to meet his, the worry and hurt for him easing just a moment to flicker in playfulness. "Don't be stubborn, _Captain_," she emphasizes the title, almost making it a tease, and he marvels at how she can shatter all of his resistance with a few words and a look.

Her gaze flicks back down to his bloodied hand, the knuckles already swelling and skin turning purple in places, and his eyes are drawn there as well. Curiosity gets the best of him, and he stops resisting her. "What _are_ you doing, Lass?" he asks, the playful lilt slipping back into his voice as well.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Regina has been teaching me, just a couple harmless things, but I'm seeing if I can fix up a bit of the damage you've done to yourself."

Killian feels a tremor run through him now that has nothing to do with her touch or her proximity. He has only to glance at the hook he wears as an excuse for his other hand to be more fearful than he would like of her attempting to use magic on him, even to help. "Emma, I-" he tries, a nervous catch in his voice that he hopes to hide.

"Didn't you once patch up my hand and ask me for a little bit of trust?" she responds. "Trust me. This should feel a lot better in a minute."

Put like that, he knows he's going to let her do whatever she wishes. He doesn't want to pull away from her gentle touch at any rate, no matter what the consequences.

Emma's eyes never leave her focus. His first sign that anything is happening is warmth in his palm, spreading out to his fingers and up his wrist into his forearm, replacing the pain with a cozy tingling. Killian watches with rapt attention as her brow crinkles adorably in concentration, and then a golden glow radiates from her hands, encircling his with light as well. It washes over their joined grip for a few seconds more and then fades. Emma looks up at him hopefully. "Better?" she asks, looking a little drained, but pleased with herself.

"Much," he assures her, flexing his fingers experimentally and giving her a genuine smile. Realizing how ridiculous what he did really was, he shakes his head sheepishly and adds, "Thank you, Love. You truly are bloody brilliant."

She blushes prettily and looks down at her hands again, as if wondering if they are really hers and also as if she is uncomfortable with his praise. Killian marvels at the thought which strikes him anew – that she has no idea how incredible she is. When she looks up again, Emma quirks an eyebrow and says, "You wouldn't want to tell me what in the world you were thinking, would you?'

He stares deep into her when their eyes meet this time. He's pretty sure she must already know. She heard his confession; it was made for her after all. He cannot put his shattered hope, jealousy, sense of loss, and his need for her into words again, not standing face to face like this. He already laid himself at her feet once; he will never get up again if she crushes him a second time.

She nods, her eyes – too wise, too old for her – understanding only too well. Killian actually breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn't push him. She knows, and she won't force him to admit it again. Somehow, with that small bit of mercy, she makes her healing spell complete. There is a look in her eyes that catches at him, telling him that though it scares her senseless, though she doesn't feel at liberty to act, and though she won't deal with anything else she feels until her lad is safe, she hopes he will wait for her, that his affection will linger. Her view of him has changed; he can see a glimmer of fragile emotion behind her usually guarded expression, emotion that nearly matches his own. He wonders, and can't help hoping, if it hints at how much she cares for him in return.


	8. Chapter Eight: After All

_Here we are at last – the final chapter of this little adventure! Sorry that this update has been delayed, but I was reluctant to say good bye to this story, and I also had to re-work how and where the happenings I had planned for this chapter took place after seeing this past Sunday's episode. I don't want this to seem completely AU, even if this is the only chapter that isn't so much a missing scene in what has already happened on the show and is instead in the very near future. Let me know if you think it worked; I'd love to hear from you! I still don't own them, though most of the time I feel like they own my brain! __ Anyway, read on, and Enjoy!_

"Islands in the Stream"

Chapter Eight: After All

Every fiber of Emma's being itches to join the fray, forgetting momentarily that she is hanging back on purpose, acting as a human shield to keep Henry from the worst of the fray. Chaos had erupted so suddenly on the deck of the Jolly Roger, just when it had seemed they were finally out of danger and nearly home. First, Regina's spell binding Pan's shadow to the mainsail had failed; the fiendish echo of Peter somehow working its way free and sending the pirate ship plummeting back into the Never Sea. The dark, bodiless mass still swoops menacingly over them, from bow to stern and back, diving and rushing at anyone it sees. This rallied Felix's malignant spirit, and he had picked up the first weapon he could lay his hand on, going straight toward David and Mary Margaret who were standing guard. The other Lost Boys seemed so frightened by the appearance of the Shadow and the fall from the sky which had arrested their escape that many didn't know what to do. Most, especially the smaller ones, huddled against the hull of the ship, as if hoping to escape Pan's wrath at their betrayal and getting caught in the crossfire of the fighting. Wendy and Tink moved to try to call them and keep them safe. A few, however, could apparently not shake off an entire childhood as Peter's minions and either fear of his retribution or honest bloodlust in their nature moved them to join in the battle. With oddly disturbing, youthful war cries, they leapt forward, engaging Regina, Neal, and Hook, while all three ordered Emma to stay with Henry.

She has been doing just that, reluctant to let her newly recovered son away from her side at any rate; she certainly does not want Peter Pan to have another chance to take him, even though she feels ridiculously helpless and aches to lend the rest of them a hand. The Shadow itself seems focused on Gold, and every dip and dive brings him closer and closer to the Dark One, who for all of his power and magic cannot seem to hurt, or even make contact with, the cloudy entity.

The rescue party is holding its own though, until Pan himself reappears. It happens so quickly and so strangely that Emma is stunned, her reaction time slowed. The Shadow sweeps past Gold once more, lower and closer than ever, and makes contact, knocking something from his jacket. The object goes skittering across the deck until it slides to a stop at Emma's feet. Gasping in surprise, she recognizes Pandora's Box from when Pan had gloatingly showed it to them at Skull Rock. She moves to pick it up before Pan's Shadow can get it and do real damage. Her movement is suddenly arrested, however, by a painfully tight hand pulling her hair hard enough to jerk her head back and a knife suddenly pressed against her throat.

Bewildered for several long, weighted moments, Emma cannot force her mind to accept who she knows must have ahold of her. There has been on one else behind her but…"Henry?" she whispers, doubting herself, wanting desperately to be wrong, heart thumping painfully and breaking a little more with each pulse. It is obvious now, from the unwavering strength in his painful grip and the clear malice rolling off of him in waves that this is Peter Pan in Henry's body, not her son at all. _'How did we not see?'_ she wonders, dazed.

She knows she should fight back, shrug him off, do some damage of her own. Yet, the small hand vengefully wielding the knife looks just like her son's, the sweet voice is his, even if his mocking answer is not. "Had you fooled, didn't I, Lost Girl?" he taunts. The niggling doubt, the fear that maybe this _is _Henry, that he does hate her, hasn't forgiven her for giving him up all those years ago, and his time with Pan on this mystifying, mind-jumbling island of despair has brought it out in him, comes rushing back in on her. She cannot bring herself to lift even a finger against the small form at her back, not even to save herself. If some small part in there is Henry, she won't.

"Now, _Mom_," his cruel, twisted emphasis on the motherly title makes her skin crawl and brings a tear burning to the corner of her eye, though Emma refuses to let it fall. "Be a dear and hold that troublesome box up where we can see it."

Trembling, she raises the hand which clutches Pandora's curse out in front of herself and her captor. The battle still rages around her, and Emma knows the others are not aware, have not yet realized the horror that has marred the rescue they were rejoicing. She knows Pan is about to ask her to open this monstrosity and let his body loose again, and she holds her breath, dreading the order. She looks up, hoping for some sign, some help, a connection with someone who can tell her what to do.

In that moment of need, her broken, despairing gaze finds those piercing, clear blue orbs that rival the very sea around them. Killian has just dispatched Felix at last – with David's help – and another of the older boys, when he glances to her. His gaze returns to hers; she realizes now that it always has, so often that she has grown used to the constancy and comfort of his concern and attention. It is as though he sensed her internal plea, the moment she thought it.

"Emma!" he calls out, his voice sounding strangled as he takes several steps toward them before Pan-in-Henry's-body orders him to stop and presses the knife even closer to her throat, tightly enough to break the skin.

Killian freezes, brought up so suddenly it seems he is pulled by invisible ropes. Emma hisses at the sting of the blade on her skin; her mind racing and yet still going too slowly to help her. "Her" pirate's eyes never leave hers, and she stares back, drawing strength from his presence, drinking in the emotion she knows is there. His desperation to get to her is written all over his beautiful face, and it no longer even shocks her to think of him as "hers", to look into his eyes and see Killian Jones at last instead of the infamous Captain Hook, or to know that if he were close enough to touch her she would feel safe.

Pan's voice is a low, spine-tingling growl when he speaks against her ear now. "Be a good girl, _Savior_, and open the lid for me…"

Emma tries to shake her head, unwilling to let Pan's body free when she doesn't know what that will mean for Henry. When she does though, she feels a trickle of blood from the blade at her neck and has to gasp for breath as he pulls her head so far back it blocks her airway. The eyes that meet hers then finally break her inability to fight back; pure evil seeps from their depths, and she finally sees that this cannot be Henry.

With an anguished cry, she suddenly throws all her weight backwards, into him, catching Pan by surprise, and giving her a couple inches' space between her throat and the knife. It's enough to let her kick backwards, knocking the child-sized form off its feet and then throw herself in the other direction.

Killian rushes forward, sword drawn to fight at her side as she picks herself up, and too many things happen at once… "Hook! No! Don't – " she cries out painfully, knowing it's too late, he can't stop himself now that he sees an opening, not when she is still in danger. She isn't even sure if she calls out more in concern for him or for her son's body which she still hopes to see Henry regain.

Unfortunately for them both, when Killian reaches their enemy, he hesitates a fatal second too long. His good heart won't let him attack Emma's son any more than she herself could. That momentary pause is all the innocent-looking demon needs. Laughing maniacally in a tone that is suddenly all Pan, he plunges the blade which had been at Emma's throat into Killian's chest.

Everything blurs before Emma's eyes as her captain staggers back and then falls heavily to his knees, hands grasping futilely at his chest. She sees the Shadow dive in to retrieve the box she has dropped, bringing the thing to its master. She hears everyone else springing into action behind them. Gold's powerful, commanding voice rings out, and Regina throws some spell that holds Henry's body frozen in place without injuring him. She knows now that they will sort out the Pan and Henry mix-up as she has failed to do. All she can manage is to stumble disjointedly to her pirate's side and fall to her knees where he is now lying, struggling to breathe.

His startling, cerulean eyes seek hers as soon as she draws near. Though their brilliance is clouded, already going glassy, she still thinks they are the most beautiful shade of blue she has ever beheld. His hand seeks hers hopefully, and she takes it without hesitation, squeezing his fingers tightly, as if she can hold onto him through her own sheer willpower.

"Are you alright, Emma lass?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper of its usual vibrant bravado, but still the concern and desire to protect her bring tears to her eyes.

Nodding, she attempts to reassure him, to stop him from worrying over her right now, though she finds herself certain that she won't emotionally recover from losing another person she cares for this much…not this time. "I'm fine," she quips, forcing herself to banter with him the way they have since they first met. "Better off than you are at the moment."

He starts to chuckle, then grunts in pain as the wound reasserts its presence. His reaction shatters her unconcerned façade, and she brings a hand up gently, as if trying to smooth the grimace from his handsome features and relax the tightness in his brow before coming to rest at the side of his face. "Why did you do that for me? _Killian_…What were you thinking?"

His voice is breathy now, every word a labor to be spoken. Whether it's the depth of the gash itself or poison that was on the blade, Emma doesn't know and hardly cares, as she leans closer to catch his words. "Love…I think…you know why…" he answers with a faint smile. With his last bit of strength, Killian Jones, not missing that she had finally called him by his real name with returned love in her tone only moments before, reaches up to brush away the tear that has trekked silently down the Savior's – _his Savior's _– cheek. When she lets out an accepting, welcoming sigh at the caress, he feels true fulfillment and peace for one glorious instant. A genuine smile graces lips that have too often spoken sarcasm and innuendo and frowned in hate and anger. He knows happiness again as his eyes drift closed.

"K-Killian…no…Open your eyes!" Emma begs softly. Raising his shoulders to cradle him against her, she rocks him unconsciously in her grief and horror. "Please…" she whispers, "Don't leave me…not now…"

A gentle hand comes to rest on her shoulder. Turning to glance up from tear-filled, swelling eyes, Emma sees Henry and stiffens, moving reflexively to protect Killian's body. Her son's eyes cloud sadly for a moment then fill with understanding. "No, Mom, I won't hurt him. I'm really me."

Emma glances behind him to see her parents, Gold, Regina, and Neal all there. Mary Margaret nods encouragingly, assuring her daughter of the truth, even as tears bead her eyelashes as well. "We can explain later," the brunette promises, "but he is back and he's okay. Pan's gone."

Throwing an arm out to pull Henry to her, Emma buries her face in his neck and breathes in his familiar scent. A wrenching sob escapes her, and she clutches him even tighter, relieved that she finally holds her son – all of him – again in her embrace, even if she can't yet bear to let go of Killian with her other arm.

Henry, always wise for his age, lets her hold him for a moment, hugging her back eagerly, gratefully, but then he wiggles in her grasp and pulls back to look her in the face. Quizzically, he glances at Killian's motionless form and asks, "Peter Pan used me to hurt him, didn't he?"

Emma doesn't want to lie to him, but she can't give him the truth either. "Henry, it's – "

"Mom," he interrupts, pegging her with a serious, thoughtful, almost knowing look. "You really care about him, don't you?"

She nods wordlessly, not sure what her son will think of this admission, knowing he had dreams of her returning to Neal and the three of them living as a family in the Enchanted Forest. Once, she would have cared what her parents, and even Neal, thought of her feelings as well, but after the sacrifice Killian just made, she won't deny what her heart has been trying to tell her all along. She knows it is the honest, gut-wrenching truth. Not that it matters now…Killian is gone…

"Then, you can bring him back!" Henry urges, hope dawning brightly on his face. "You have to kiss him, like Gramps and Grandma. You can save him!"

If she hadn't already been sure, she knows now that this is her Henry before her. After all that has happened, all he has been through, he is still the Truest Believer. His heart allows no room for doubt, even as that seems to be all that is left in hers. With every beat, she feels flutters of fear within her chest, as the damaged organ tries once more to piece its shattered bits together again. "Oh, Henry," she starts, "I don't know…It's not the same…"

Then suddenly Mary Margaret is beside her as well, falling to her knees beside her daughter and her grandson. "No, Emma, Sweetheart, _believe. _ If he is your happily-ever-after, you have to try."

Her father is nodding as well, letting her know he is with her, whatever she is feeling. She does not allow her gaze to consider anyone else in the small circle surrounding them. Instead, she draws in a deep breath to steady herself and looks back at Killian's handsome face, so peaceful it seems he has just fallen asleep in her arms. The lost chances, missed opportunities, and the slimmest, barest possibility that she might still be able to fall asleep with her arms around him and wake up in his embrace seals the decision for her.

Her mother gives her hand a gentle squeeze, then backs away, giving her space and a moment to gather her resolve. Henry is almost vibrating with eagerness, no doubt excited to see true "good magic" at work after so much darkness. Emma is not sure why she is so unsure; she wants Killian back with her, wants to have a chance with him. Yet a cruel voice keeps reminding her that they have kissed before – and though it was the best, most overwhelming, appealing, heated kiss she's ever experienced – nothing otherworldly occurred. She almost can't bear to believe this might work; she balks at setting her hopes up to be crushed once more. What if nothing happens? What if he stays dead…gone forever?

"Mom, come on!" Henry urges, and she spares him a crooked, sidelong, half-smile, charmed by his child-like impatience, but also by his blind faith. She cherishes that about her little boy, though she is sure he didn't get that trait from her.

Finally, she feels her courage returning, and she tells herself that she can have her pirate rogue back again, smiling impishly at her, tossing out come-ons, and lighting fires in her soul. She didn't feel for him before what she does now. That first kiss had been pure want and desire; this one would be something else entirely. Maybe, just maybe…

She leans down, whispering so quietly that not even Henry hears it, "Wake up, Killian. I- I love you." Then she captures his lips with her own. At first, she panics, feeling nothing happening. No warm breath stirs against her face, his lips don't move in welcoming response to hers, his chest does not begin to rise and fall. Still, she has started now – she won't let herself draw back. She leans closer still, framing his face in her hands, lovingly stroking her scruffily bearded cheeks, pulling him into her kiss. She forces her mind and emotions to focus on all that he has done for her, all that he means to her. For once, she lets her guard down and refuses to shut off her feelings. Killian deserves to know that she loves him, deserves to hear those words from her. All she desires is for him to return to her, to open those deep, hypnotic eyes.

Then, not instantaneously, but gradually, realization dawns on her that something is changing. She feels blessed, pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body where there had only been cold emptiness. Killian's lips seem to grow more pliant, less frozen and lifeless. Encouraged, she keeps going. She is rewarded by a shiver in the air, as if the atmosphere itself holds its breath for a second then whips forward in elation. There's a golden glow of light surrounding her, Killian, and even Henry, and as it dulls gently, Killian moves and sucks in a long, desperate breath of air.

Emma yelps in surprise and relief, tears pouring down her face in a way she knows she's never allowed anyone else to see before. His arms are already wrapping around her of their own accord, even as his eyes do finally flutter open. He struggles to sit up with her in his arms, holding on tightly and effectively pulling her into his lap. They are both suddenly laughing, giddy with joy and stunned disbelief. Somehow between them they have merited a second chance and neither one of them plan to waste a moment of it.

"You're alive!" Emma exclaims, tracing her hands across his brow and then down around his shoulders to hug him tightly to her again, kissing him playfully on the nose. "It worked!"

"Aye, Love," he smiles at her adorably; too happy to see her safe and unharmed and finally accepting him to gloat that he had always known they were meant to be. "It was True Love's Kiss. Don't you hero types always believe that will save the day?"

She shakes her head at him, so full of hope, exhilaration, and promise that she can't even pretend to argue. She just wants to hold onto him and Henry both and never let go. Killian brushes her tears away gently, Henry wraps his arms around them in a hug, and she marvels at how right it feels. As if she finally, truly belongs with someone – two someones – who are hers…_her family. _After all the time she has spent lost, closed off, with no one but herself to depend on, this seems like more than she deserves, more than she can fathom.

Killian quirks a brow at her; glee is evident in his face, tempting her even in jest. "Didn't I tell you we'd make quite the team, Lass?"

"You did indeed, Captain," she murmurs, reeling him back in with a heated look of her own. "Just this once, I think it's time I admit you were right." Then they are kissing again, everything and everyone else fading away, and Emma's heart is so full of happiness that she wonders if it might truly burst. She hasn't felt like a part of all the fairytales she has learned are real and true – until now, as she finally gets her own happy ending.

"_Islands in the Stream,_

_That is what we are;_

_No one in between_

_How can we be wrong?_

_Sail away with me, to another world_

_Where we'll rely on each other…"_


End file.
